No Possibility of Redemption
by kate-7h
Summary: Characters: Castiel, Meg, Dean, Sam, Lucifer, Balthezar, Crowley Summery: Castiel said he saw Lucifer for awhile, now who did he see after that? A look into Castiel's psyche between when the boys leave him at the hospital and his coma. A prologue and epilogue from Meg's perspective. Copyrights to CW and Kripke
1. Prologue

Meg watched Castiel from behind the door's glass. His posture was stock still, hands clasped in his lap, unmoving. His deep blue eyes only gave away the fact that he was feeling anything. They were panicked, darting wildly across the room. Far from the bright gleam that was usually seen in all those dick-bag angels. Castiel was the exception for once. He looked dulled and raw, like an exposed nerve leaving space for the pain to enter, accepting it in. Meg felt sad at that (though she would deny it in any courtroom or torture dungeon they stuck her in), it was just pitiful to see the broken husk he'd become.

She looked back to when she'd first met him, a fallen angel. He wasl so set against Lucifer, the only angel like him; fallen, wanted as a fugitive. So prideful. So pompous. So hot, but that was besides the point. The next time they'd met he still had that pride. He walked about as a shield to the Winchesters, giving them an escape plan from working with her (or demons in general). Then all plans failed and they were all trapped in that hallway. She'd kissed him to steal his angel knife-sword whatever, but she was definitely not expecting him to return the favor. Did she say hot before? He was sexy, so sexy. And then he was gone again. The next time was different. He was himself, yes, (minus his memories) but he seemed... raked. Like someone had taken a steel scrub brush and scraped away that pride that held him so high.

Of course she'd known what he'd done. She just didn't realize what it had cost him, and she didn't like it. He was always strong, he was an angel, he wasn't supposed to make a deal with Crowley. It was too human. Too demony. Angels were dicks, but that was not a move they were supposed to make. Watching Castiel fall that low... if Meg had a heart, it might've broke for him.


	2. Chapter 1

Castiel knew he was done. He had finally, completely fallen. Even when it was mostly true during the apocalypse, he still thought of himself of an angel, his pride hardly allowed him be classified a human. Though, he thought humans beautiful works of art, capable of perfection through their many flaws, he knew he could never be one. Even if he'd lost his connection to heaven, he was still an angel.

As he sat on the creaking bed that Sam Winchester once occupied in the turmoil of his own mind, he knew he'd never been lower.

Lucifer was grinning at him from across the room. He spoke little, as there was not much to say between them. They were brothers, but Lucifer was much older. In human terms, Castiel had been a child when Lucifer had fallen. Lucifer knew, or his mind's portrayal of him, his mere presence was enough to torment Castiel. Like it had been in Carthage. He just sat and watched in silence.

The only indication the days passed was the light brightening and fading through the window and Meg coming and going occasionally, asking him if he needed to eat. She never received a response.

Looking back, Castiel realized that him seeing Lucifer was just a shadow, an echo of Sam's memories. Eventually he faded with the light of the sun through the grey clouds and window panes. The hallucinations didn't stop after that though.

How he longed for Lucifer to return.

What came next hurt so much more than his distant older brother could induce. As his weary eyes looked up, they were met with soft smirk of Balthezar. He leaned, content, against the white wall.

"Hello, Cassie," his voice, the nickname he'd given, sliced Castiel like a knife. Balthezar's arms were crossed, his face accusing.

"What were you doing?" Balthezar waited, expecting an explanation.

Castiel's mouth was dry, but he had no choice but to speak, "Balthezar, I... I believed there was no other way."

"Oh right," he paced across the length of the room. "And... that's why you killed me? You had no other way?"

Castiel bowed his head, utter shame and self-hatred filled his entire being, "I was wrong."

"You've got that right, you ass. I was trying to help you! My brother, you were always the one I looked up to, followed in your footsteps. I helped the Winchesters because they cared enough to try. I cared enough to try. But you... you stabbed me in the back. And you didn't bloody care at all."

The experience of crying was relatively unfamiliar to Castiel. He had before, but it was rare. In that instant, the liquid refused to be stopped. But he let them drip off his chin, and he let Balthezar shout every angry word he could think for days. Because no matter what justifications he'd supplied, in the end, none mattered, none were enough to make the steps he'd taken right.

When Balthezar had finished his exacerbated words towards Castiel, he too faded. In his place stood the demon who accelerated his downfall.

"Well, what a pleasure to see you again, Castiel," Crowley's face was molded into his everlasting sneer. Castiel's fear was intensified from his raw emotions that Balthezar left. He stood on his feet and backed up against the far wall.

"You are not really here," Castiel croaked, his voice hoarse from underuse.

Crowley scraped his finger against the bed frame, "Doesn't seem to matter, my feathery friend. All that matters is what _you _hear and see. Me, I'm just a projection, a harmless apparatus devised by your own mind to torture yourself. And what a bang-up job you've done so far. Bravo."

Castiel let himself sink onto the floor, trying to drown out the demon's drawling dialogue.

"Well, how about that? Our boy Cas not able to handle this turn of events, or have you forgotten WHAT YOU DID?" Castiel jumped violently at Crowley's sudden shout.

"Of course you didn't, that's all you _can _think about, isn't it? All those humans? All those angels? You killed and killed and it brought a smile to your face. You enjoyed it. I can understand that, being a psychopath myself, but you were so noble, so righteous. What is the difference between you and me now, Castiel? Do you still think yourself _better? _Or are you as stupid as those Winchester brothers?"

Meg arrived not long into Crowley's grandiloquence speech. Her brow creased as she lifted him off the floor, but she said nothing. She probably knew what had happened to Sam, his hallucinations. She must've guessed what was happening to him, but she was silent. No words of comfort could have drowned out the vision though. That had been the problem to begin with, Crowley was nearly impossible to ignore.

Meg stayed from then on. She sat in her corner reading, often glancing up with that crease on her brow.

Crowley left too after his share of reprimands was through. And the next hallucination took his place. Anna, Uriel, Ellen, Jo, Bobby, a hundred-thousand multitudes of angels he'd slain. All shouting, all angry.

After all that, Sam and Dean were the worst. They stood there above his crouched form, unforgiving malice adorned their hazel eyes.

"What were you thinking, man?" Dean's voice struck out against the silence of the room. He was livid, so was Sam. They looked as if they desperately wished for his angel knife. And after all the rest, Castiel was willing to give it to them. But they weren't real. They couldn't hurt him.

He was wrong.

"I said we were family once. You were like a brother to me, but you hurt Sammy, you may as well killed him. Sure, I'll let a lot of things slide, but hurting Sam is not one of them. You're not my family, Cas. All angels are dicks, so what would make you so special."

"You're not real," those were the first words he'd spoken out loud for the any days since Crowley. He needed Dean to stop. He couldn't handle this, the anger, the resentment, the betrayed look in his eyes.

Dean's ghostly face just smiled cruelly, "Oh, I'm real. Right there." Dean tapped his finger against Castiel's forehead. "And I'm not going to stop. You can't just make me disappear. You can't make your actions disappear."

"I'm sorry," Castiel looked to the ground, anywhere but Dean's face. His shame was too great.

Dean stepped forward, gripped his chin and pulled his face roughly up, "Don't you apologize, you son of a bitch! Don't you dare! Do you think we'd ever forgive you? You think this could be forgotten? Saying sorry won't change ANYTHING!" Dean shoved him back and stepped away, turning his back.

"How could you do it?" Sam's voice wasn't angry, it was that same tone he used when he was appalled, disappointed. His eyes remained hard, but the disappointment hurt deeply.

"I thought we were friends. I thought you wanted to help us. We trusted you, let you in closer than anyone besides Bobby. You were our friend and you betrayed us. And you killed so many people. So many. I tried to have faith in you, I tried to understand. Believe me, I know what it's like to hit rock bottom, but you just kept going. You didn't stop. And now," he sighed and rubbed his broad forehead, "Look where it's got you. Locked up in psych ward."

Castiel couldn't see anymore. Water blurred his vision. He tried to stop them, but the pain, the guilt, it was overwhelming and he sat slouched on the bed, sob wracking through his broken frame. Meg was there. She patted him on the back, but it was of little comfort. Sam and Dean, the Winchesters with whom he'd fought, for whom he'd fallen, hated him. They were disgusted with him. And they would never forgive him. He wept for that, that there was no possibility of redemption. He would live forever in his sins.

All the emotions were far too much. Castiel looked up into the Winchester's faces, their hard expressions, their unforgiveness, and they faded into the dark as Castiel slipped from consciousness..

~%~

A/N: Hope you guys liked this! Reviews would be really nice to tell me what you thought!


	3. Epilogue

Meg sat in the corner. She decided to stay in Cas's room after she'd found him pushed into the far corner behind the bed, shaking slightly. She didn't know if he would hurt himself like the other patients at that place, but safe was better than sorry. Her eyes were more or less glued to some magazine she'd picked up in the lounge, but the words never really reached her mind. Nor did she watch Cas too dedicatedly, but she did listen. Castiel was being ripped apart. Sometimes he was silent, sometimes pleading and apologizing, or (the worst) sobbing.

Meg had never seen an angel cry. Or show any sort of weakness at all. Sure, they'd only "physically" been around for a few years, but the standard still stood. Castiel, angel of the Lord, was bawling like a baby. And it left a pit in her stomach to watch. When it got bad she would sit by him and rub his back awkwardly. He showed no indication that he even noticed her presence. Hell, what was he seeing?

Guessing from his outward response to his hallucinations, 'hell' was the best description. Eventually it became too much and he just slipped unconscious. The actual docs decided he'd brought on the coma through the trauma of his hallucinations and they'd wait until he came to to try anything more. She started to dial the number she'd recently memorized.

"Hello?"

"Hiya Sam," Meg voice drawled.

"What?"

Her lips twisted, "Oh nothing, just letting you boys know that Cas decided to take a cap nap for a commercial break and he'll be back shortly."

Sam sighed on the other line, "So that means...?"

"Doc says something like a trauma induced coma or whatever. I don't know."

"Trauma... from hallucinations?" Sam said quietly, his voice saturated with the survivors shame.

"Yeah."

"Okay. Thanks, Meg."

"Yup."

She hung up the phone and returned it to her pocket. The call had taken less than three minutes but she still didn't want to leave all that much. She slipped back into the dreary aslymn room and took her seat next to the bed like a doting family member.

Up to that point, Meg hadn't quite decided if she was angry at Castiel for all that crap he'd done. He did let in all the chompers, help Crowley become a more powerful "King of Hell," but after all that, she was filled with indecisiveness. After watching Cas cry and slowly lose every marble he had left, she decided to be probably the only person not angry at the angel. Meg figured he needed at least one person who didn't resent him. He was just like a kicked puppy in the rain left in the middle of the street. As pathetic as the image was, she just couldn't make herself be angry.

"Don't worry, Clarence," Meg said as she arranged Cas's hand comfortably on his stomach. "I still believe in you."


End file.
